


No Title This Time, Sorry

by BachandBefore



Category: Original Work
Genre: confused
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BachandBefore/pseuds/BachandBefore
Summary: There isn't a label for this emotion. Also, emotions suck.
Comments: 1





	No Title This Time, Sorry

Sometimes I wish I were a man. I’m not trans-I know I’m a women. But men are great. Men are tall, and strong. They’re bigger than me. They have louder voices. Men can play the drums and no one bats an eye. Women play the drums, and they must be lesbian butches. I am not a lesbian. I would feel no shame if I were, but I’m not. But I have no choice. I must be one, since I don’t play a pretty instrument like the guitar.  
Women are ‘cute.’ They do impressions of men. I’m a girl drummer. How adorable of me to try. How adorable of female vocalists to sound almost like men! They almost kick ass. They almost sound like they should. Give them props. They tried.  
I don’t know how to be a woman. Is this enough makeup, or not enough? Do these clothes show that I am attractive while still not caring about my appearance? If I meet a girl who’s more attractive than me, should I hate her, or try to pretend like she’s not superior to me? Because she is. All that matters is how you look, and it’s always been that way and it always will. What are we competing for? Why do I feel competitive? Men? What do I do? Pretend like I don’t know she’s better than me? I don’t want to be a part of this race, this competition.  
I don’t feel human, often. I feel like a statistic. A placement, in the minds of others. Like I’m being scored. Attractiveness…intelligence…threat level. But never just a person. There is an acceptable level of weirdness-a quota to be met but not overstepped. Quirkiness is good. Outright oddness is not. Good, bad. Blah-fucking-blah. Rules. I can’t live. I can’t be. I have to have to.  
Interpersonal interactions are an assessment. I could do without them. But I can’t be alone.


End file.
